For the small paw that imprinted my heart
I found Boris when he was just 1 hour old, his mother rejected him and his brother was dead. He was the smallest kitten I have ever seen, weighting only 70 grams.
I took him home, and for the first few days I fed him with an eye dropper and kept him on a heating pad all the time. He was purring non stop, never heard a kitten so young purr like Boris did.
Waking up every two hours throughout the night was hard but seeing him thrive made it seem easier. At only 5 days he got sick, he was having diarrhea. He was dehydrated. I treated him with Pedialyte, few drops of mint tea and rice water. He got better. I started celebrating every step of the way: when he got to 100 grams, when he opened his eyes, when he started to respond to my voice, when he got to 200 grams, when he took his first wobbly steps. Everything was a celebration. I was his world, his comfort and he was my healer since this year was so hard on me.
One day I noticed that he was heavy breathing so I rushed him to the vet, to find out he developed aspiration pneumonia. I was devastated. I blamed myself a lot. Never has he choked on milk, but it turns out that he was too eager to drink, fact that once made me happy now was making me fear for his life. We started the treatment with antibiotics, vitamins and some medicine to help him eliminate the fluids. X Ray showed that his lungs were full of milk.
For the first few days he wasn’t doing so good, I was checking up on him every minute to see if he still breathes, to move him from side to side. Then all of a sudden, he started breathing fine again. By the 6th day of treatment he was almost back to normal but the vet said to continue the treatment for the next 4 days. On Wednesday, the last day of his treatment, while we were getting ready to go to the vet, he started to become lethargic. I panicked. Getting to the cabinet, my heart was racing. Our doctor seemed worried. She injected warm fluids as he was getting pretty cold and dehydrated. She gave him a shot of vitamins and also performed a glycemic test on him. The values were way bigger than normal. Since he was so skinny, so weak, she couldn’t take a blood test. We stayed there for 2 hours and he was more energized after the shots. I came back home, I fed him a little and he drank, I gave him some Pedialyte and cuddled him. He was purring. Then the night came and things started getting worse again, he barely responded to sound or touch. First thing in the morning, I was ready to go to the vet again. But he passed away.
I will never forget that day. It broke me. It truly did. I had fostered kittens before, but this time was different. Boris really healed me with his love and presence.
The sweetest tiniest kitten ever. Tuesday night, hours before he got sick again, he sat on my lap for over an hour, we cuddled and he purred the whole time. This is a memory I will hold forever, because in that moment everything was perfect, he was almost back to good health, the room was so quiet, I was so happy and he was so loved and he knew it. I will treasure him forever. The bond we had was spectacular.
I like to think that after he passed he found peace and wanted me to find my own peace too, so that’s why he sent me another kitten to take care of. A strange coincidence, but in the same exact day I saw a post about a newborn kitten in need for help. So I took the chance and even if I was grieving, I adopted her. She is now almost 4 weeks old.
I still miss my Boris but I know he is at peace, resting. His imprinted my heart, indeed.
I found Boris when he was just 1 hour old, his mother rejected him and his brother was dead. He was the smallest kitten I have ever seen, weighting only 70 grams.
I took him home, and for the first few days I fed him with an eye dropper and kept him on a heating pad all the time. He was purring non stop, never heard a kitten so young purr like Boris did.
Waking up every two hours throughout the night was hard but seeing him thrive made it seem easier. At only 5 days he got sick, he was having diarrhea. He was dehydrated. I treated him with Pedialyte, few drops of mint tea and rice water. He got better. I started celebrating every step of the way: when he got to 100 grams, when he opened his eyes, when he started to respond to my voice, when he got to 200 grams, when he took his first wobbly steps. Everything was a celebration. I was his world, his comfort and he was my healer since this year was so hard on me.
One day I noticed that he was heavy breathing so I rushed him to the vet, to find out he developed aspiration pneumonia. I was devastated. I blamed myself a lot. Never has he choked on milk, but it turns out that he was too eager to drink, fact that once made me happy now was making me fear for his life. We started the treatment with antibiotics, vitamins and some medicine to help him eliminate the fluids. X Ray showed that his lungs were full of milk.
For the first few days he wasn’t doing so good, I was checking up on him every minute to see if he still breathes, to move him from side to side. Then all of a sudden, he started breathing fine again. By the 6th day of treatment he was almost back to normal but the vet said to continue the treatment for the next 4 days. On Wednesday, the last day of his treatment, while we were getting ready to go to the vet, he started to become lethargic. I panicked. Getting to the cabinet, my heart was racing. Our doctor seemed worried. She injected warm fluids as he was getting pretty cold and dehydrated. She gave him a shot of vitamins and also performed a glycemic test on him. The values were way bigger than normal. Since he was so skinny, so weak, she couldn’t take a blood test. We stayed there for 2 hours and he was more energized after the shots. I came back home, I fed him a little and he drank, I gave him some Pedialyte and cuddled him. He was purring. Then the night came and things started getting worse again, he barely responded to sound or touch. First thing in the morning, I was ready to go to the vet again. But he passed away.
I will never forget that day. It broke me. It truly did. I had fostered kittens before, but this time was different. Boris really healed me with his love and presence.
The sweetest tiniest kitten ever. Tuesday night, hours before he got sick again, he sat on my lap for over an hour, we cuddled and he purred the whole time. This is a memory I will hold forever, because in that moment everything was perfect, he was almost back to good health, the room was so quiet, I was so happy and he was so loved and he knew it. I will treasure him forever. The bond we had was spectacular.
I like to think that after he passed he found peace and wanted me to find my own peace too, so that’s why he sent me another kitten to take care of. A strange coincidence, but in the same exact day I saw a post about a newborn kitten in need for help. So I took the chance and even if I was grieving, I adopted her. She is now almost 4 weeks old.
I still miss my Boris but I know he is at peace, resting. His imprinted my heart, indeed.
